The valkyries shadow, p.1
The Valkyrie's Shadow, page 1
Also by Tiana Warner
Sigrid and The Valkyries series
The Valkyrie’s Daughter
The Valkyrie’s Shadow
The Mermaids of Eriana Kwai series
Ice Massacre
Ice Crypt
Ice Kingdom
Table of Contents
Copyright
Dedication
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
Chapter Thirty-Three
Chapter Thirty-Four
Chapter Thirty-Five
Chapter Thirty-Six
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Chapter Forty
Chapter Forty-One
Chapter Forty-Two
Chapter Forty-Three
Chapter Forty-Four
Chapter Forty-Five
Chapter Forty-Six
Chapter Forty-Seven
Chapter Forty-Eight
Chapter Forty-Nine
Chapter Fifty
Chapter Fifty-One
Chapter Fifty-Two
Chapter Fifty-Three
Chapter Fifty-Four
Chapter Fifty-Five
Chapter Fifty-Six
Chapter Fifty-Seven
Chapter Fifty-Eight
Chapter Fifty-Nine
Chapter Sixty
Chapter Sixty-One
Chapter Sixty-Two
Chapter Sixty-Three
Chapter Sixty-Four
Chapter Sixty-Five
Chapter Sixty-Six
Chapter Sixty-Seven
Chapter Sixty-Eight
Chapter Sixty-Nine
Chapter Seventy
Acknowledgements
About the Author
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.
Copyright © 2023 by Tiana Warner. All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce, distribute, or transmit in any form or by any means. For information regarding subsidiary rights, please contact the Publisher.
Entangled Publishing, LLC
644 Shrewsbury Commons Ave., STE 181
Shrewsbury, PA 17361
rights@entangledpublishing.com
Entangled Teen is an imprint of Entangled Publishing, LLC.
Visit our website at www.entangledpublishing.com.
Edited by Amy Acosta
Cover design by Bree Archer
Stock Art Credits Nerthuz/Gettyimages, stereohype/Gettyimages, RedKoalaDesign/Gettyimages, Mykhailo Skop/Shutterstock,
Nanashiro/Shutterstock, and CGTrader/clayguy
Interior design by Toni Kerr
ISBN 978-1-64937-400-4
Ebook ISBN 978-1-64937-401-1
Manufactured in the United States of America
First Edition July 2023
10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1
To Adrianna, a little valkyrie in the making
At Entangled, we want our readers to be well-informed. If you would like to know if this book contains any elements that might be of concern for you, please check the book’s webpage.
https://entangledpublishing.com/books/the-valkyries-shadow
Chapter One
A Veil of
Nightfall
Standing on the brink of darkness, Sigrid tightened her grip on the reins, the leather digging through her riding gloves. The path into Svartalfheim was not so much an entrance as a wall of night. Life, light, and sound just seemed to…end.
An illusion.
An entire world existed beyond this veil.
Hestur snorted his displeasure and scraped a hoof against the grass.
Sigrid reached down from the saddle to stroke his neck, her insides churning. “I know, buddy. I don’t like this, either.”
The line between the realms of light and darkness was more abrupt than she’d expected. A few paces ahead, the lush grass and trees, the bright flowers, and the flocks of noisy birds thriving on the riverbank ceased, becoming a void that stretched infinitely upward and touched the horizon on either side.
The wall was like nothing she’d ever seen—opaque, shifting, alive. Flecks of night drifted off it, creeping toward her like ash, grazing her skin and inviting her closer.
It wasn’t an invitation she wanted to accept, but she hadn’t come all this way to turn around.
She also hadn’t survived a trip to Helheim and back a month ago only to die today.
She reached back and unsheathed her spear.
Better to lose a spear than a limb.
Holding her breath, she threw it at the dark veil, then opened her palm to summon it back before it could disappear. As it turned around, tendrils of darkness clung to it like cobwebs, stretching far until they snapped and the spear returned.
The darkness roiled where the spear had touched it, ripples spreading out like she’d disturbed a pond.
Her stomach churned. “I really don’t like this.”
Hestur snorted in agreement.
But what choice did they have? They had to go in.
As the darkness settled, the hairs on the back of Sigrid’s neck tingled. She twisted in the saddle to check the riverside.
The spring of Hvergelmir trickled past, connecting the nine worlds and missing one crucial piece—Ratatosk. The god would have been there to ferry travelers in his longship if the Night Elves hadn’t captured him in an effort to control passage across the worlds.
The fate of the nine worlds depended on rescuing him, and so did her own.
After spending most of her sixteen years trying to join the valkyrie ranks, Sigrid was finally one of them—a real valkyrie—on her first mission. Succeeding today meant she would get to do more. She’d worked hard to earn this rank, and she was ready to do whatever it took to get Ratatosk back.
Even if, for now, that meant waiting in front of a wall while the valkyries flew the perimeter.
Sigrid faced the darkness once more, her nerves pushing her to take action while her orders were to stay. Did the others get into trouble? Did the Night Elves shoot them down?
“The valkyries are fine. They’re the best warriors in the cosmos,” she murmured, needing to hear a voice in the silence.
If only her friends were with her. She’d faced the unknown enough times to learn that it was less daunting when she had them by her side. They had become a team, a force, conquering everything from here to Helheim.
It’d been weeks since they’d seen each other, and she missed them, especially Mariam. Sigrid’s lips still tingled whenever she thought of that blissful goodbye in the woods. Had Mariam made it safely to her home world? Had she thought of Sigrid on the journey, or was she too busy to spare her a thought? She’d promised to return but failed to say when.
Should Sigrid expect to wait weeks, months, or years for her return? She already spent an embarrassing amount of time imagining all the ways their reunion could go, which always ended with them running to each other, limbs tangling, lips moving urgently as they tumbled into the grass…
A gust of wind blew loose strands of Sigrid’s blond hair across her face. She looked around with a start, her spear raised and ready to defend herself against—
Hooves thumped like a hailstorm as the twenty-one junior valkyries touched down on their winged white mares.
Oops. So much for staying alert and attentive.
Sigrid sighed in relief at their return and sheathed her weapon.
Hestur nickered a greeting.
They looked majestic, even royal, in their white uniforms, winged helmets, and gold armor. Sigrid, by contrast, wore a hard leather vest over a red tunic. General Eira had bluntly informed her that there was no time to have real, expensive valkyrie armor made for her before they left. But Sigrid had fought in this vest in Helheim and survived, so she could do the same here. At least her helmet matched theirs.
“This is the spot,” Ylva said, sitting tall with her usual swan-like poise even as her mare tossed her head and shuffled away from the immense sight before them. “We searched for miles in both directions. It’s got to be here.”
Upon arrival, they’d found a dock where Ratatosk would presumably moor when ferrying passengers to this world. The entrance to Svartalfheim should logically be here, but they’d al
“All right.” The flutter in Sigrid’s chest grew stronger. “We’ll want to stay on the path when they let us in. The darkness didn’t exactly look like a warm bath when I poked it with my spear.”
The valkyries eyed the dark wall, some skeptical, others fearful, and some doing a careful scan as if hunting for a snag in its fabric.
Sigrid shivered. What would it feel like to go in? Would it be cold, suffocating, painful? Would the cobweb-like strands stick to her skin like they’d done to her spear? “To be safe, we should—”
“Oda got a branch stuck in her tail, Sigrid,” Gunni said, scrunching her pink face.
Sigrid exhaled hard and leaned to take a look. She clicked her tongue at the long bramble shoot clinging to the mare’s white tail. “So she did.”
“Sooo…” Gunni said expectantly, motioning to Oda’s rear.
The urge to tell her to untangle it herself and shove it somewhere was strong, but they didn’t have time for an argument. Swallowing the retort, Sigrid dismounted Hestur and went to pry loose the branch.
Ylva snickered.
Any friendliness Ylva and Gunni had shown on the journey back from Helheim had vanished. It was almost like they found comfort in knowing Sigrid was a mere stable hand and had been personally offended when she’d joined their ranks. And so the two of them had taken it upon themselves to make sure Sigrid remembered her place. Unfortunately, this request to remove a prickly branch from a mare’s butt wasn’t the worst they’d come up with during the journey.
“Come on, Gunni.” Edith waved an arm, pausing her stretching ritual. “You couldn’t have gotten that out yourself?”
Sigrid tried to convey her thanks with a glance. Small moments like this from the other valkyries were, at least, an improvement.
Gunni shot Edith a glare. “I’m busy.”
“Oh, I forgot you can’t breathe and do anything else at the same time—”
“Everyone ready, then?” Runa, ever the peacekeeper, asked over their bickering.
Sigrid mounted up and nodded, her stomach tightening into a nervous ball.
As General Eira had instructed before they left, Sigrid was to present herself to the king alone, because a lone girl on an ordinary brown horse was less threatening than a fleet of valkyries. And while trespassing on Svartalfheim, the last thing they wanted was for the king of this world to feel threatened.
“To be clear,” Sigrid said, “when General Eira said we could use you on the ground, she didn’t mean, like, a sacrifice, right?”
Runa gave a one-note laugh.
No one else answered, seeming oblivious that it was an honest question.
Sigrid was proud to serve Vanaheim—she’d become a guardian of the upper worlds, the highest class of warriors in the cosmos, and nothing could take away the glory that filled her chest at being given a critical role in this mission. But going in first?
Maybe a little overzealous for her first one.
“You know what to do.” Ylva gathered her reins, and her mare began to prance.
Runa closed her eyes and murmured under her breath, maybe praying. The blood drained from her already pale face, and sweaty wisps of brown hair escaped from her helmet.
The sight wasn’t helpful.
Edith gave a small nod, as composed as ever. Unlike the rest of them, not a hint of sweat dotted her flawless amber complexion. “We’ll be ready when—if—things go sour.”
The valkyries took flight, leaving Sigrid in a smothering silence.
Ahead, not a breath of wind or a murmur came out of the darkness.
“We’ve got this, right?” she asked Hestur as if he were the one who needed reassuring. “We’ve crossed worse barriers. Remember the gates of Hel?”
Hestur snorted as if to say, Not helpful.
Sigrid pulled down the brim of her helmet and adjusted her feet in the stirrups. She nudged Hestur sideways until she could touch the barrier between light and dark. Ashes of nightfall licked toward her, and when she stretched out her fingers, it seeped through her gloves like ice. Black tendrils clung to her like they had to her spear, and she fought the urge to pull her hand back and shake them off.
A whoosh came like a rush of water flowing away. According to Vala, the darkness would send the message that a guest was requesting entry. “If you enter the land of night without permission, you’ll sorely regret it,” she’d said, yet glossed over the consequences. It’d sounded ominous enough that none of them considered not knocking.
Sigrid pulled her hand back, reached over her shoulder, and triple-checked her quiver. Her spear was secure. She poked a finger into her saddle bag to check her torch. Still there. She touched the flint rod clipped to her saddle. Ready.
The Night Elves would try to kill her the moment she wielded it, but she had no intention of fumbling through a dark void without an emergency measure in place.
Fisk had once told her, “Darkness is the most flammable substance.” He was the only Night Elf she knew, and he never removed his head-to-toe clothing while traveling through other worlds because even a hint of light exposure would burn him to death.
As long as the Svartalf King was reasonable, there would be no need to do something as gruesome as light up this world.
Her heart pulled at the thought of Fisk, who’d gone with Mariam. She missed him, too. If he were here, he would probably be standing loyally by her side in his massive dire wolf mask, ready to hurtle into danger while chattering endlessly along the way.
Get through this, and you’re one day closer to seeing them again.
As long as things went well.
She swallowed hard.
At her clear intention, the darkness shifted.
Hestur raised his head, his every muscle tensing underneath her.
“Here we go,” she murmured, tightening her grip on the reins.
A fissure appeared in the black veil. She held her breath as the darkness rippled, and then it split, opening a path into the land of night.
Chapter Two
The Svartalf King
Seems Nice
The chasm split the darkness like a river of daylight, revealing hard, gray ground. Sigrid waited a beat before nudging Hestur to walk on, taking the illuminated path into Svartalfheim.
A whisper of wind made her look back in time to see the dark veil sealing shut, leaving her and Hestur in a path of light that stretched onward, curving through the darkness. It was like riding along a path in the woods, but rather than trees at her sides, walls of night loomed.
Sigrid exhaled slowly and focused on the path. She resisted the urge to glance up to where the valkyries would have slipped into the opening with her to stay hidden above the clouds, hopefully undetected by Night Elves.
Past the surrounding walls of darkness, activity replaced the sounds of the riverbank. Murmurs, shouts, laughter, splashing water, clanking metal, even clip-clopping hooves passed by. She must have been riding through a village.
“Someone’s here to see the king,” a gruff voice said nearby. “Look.”
“And she’s got a nice, sturdy horse,” another said. “Think we can keep him?”
Sigrid nudged Hestur into a trot, eager to get past the disembodied voices. His hooves clip-clopped loudly on the rocky ground, which was so barren that it appeared nothing had ever grown here, and nothing ever would.
Fisk aside, her experiences with Night Elves had not been good, and she had no intention of having another disastrous encounter right before meeting with their king.
“A girl!” someone shouted nearby. “Where do you think she’s from?”
Hestur trotted faster without urging. Sigrid gripped tighter with her legs and resisted the urge to reach for her spear.
They wouldn’t hurt us, right? Not if we’re the king’s guests.
Onward they rode, following a path that curved left. Though daylight surrounded them, the feel of total darkness lingered, as cold and damp as if they’d plunged into a river. A full-body shiver rocked Sigrid—two parts cold, one part fear—but she clenched her jaw and allowed Hestur to trot on.
They went far past the point where she could change her mind, far past fleeing to safety, far past the comforts of warmth and full sunshine. The chill rippling up her back and the way Hestur kept speeding up told her they weren’t just being watched—they were being followed.
